The closest thing we'll be to friends
by never-to-see
Summary: Moriarty turns up at 221B one night needing someone to talk to. Mentions of abuse, OOC Sherlock and Moriarty. Established Sherlock/John and Moriarty/Moran but nothing explicit. I don't know where this came from.


**A/N: Right, so. I have NO IDEA where this even came from, it just spawned inside my mind and I had to get it out. Those of you who are reading my other ongoing story, don't worry I just had to get this out of the way before I could write anything else! Also, this is pretty badly written. I apologise, but it was a bit of a brain-mess anyway to be honest : )**

**Warning: Mentions of abuse, probably very OOC Sherlock and Moriarty, but it's meant to be that way so yeah. Established relationships Sherlock/John, Moriarty/Moran (mentions of past Sherlock/OOC)**

John was confused by the knock on the door. Sherlock was in the kitchen and even if it was him, he would just walk into the flat without a warning. The knock was too timid to belong to Mrs. Hudson and they would've been warned of anyone else's arrival due to the fact that they would've had to have spoken to Mrs Hudson to gain entry to the flat. So who could possibly be knocking on the door?

"Are you going to get that?" Sherlock queried from the kitchen. John snapped out of his chain of thought and made his way over to the door.

The door opened to reveal a man dressed in a simple red hoodie and black jeans. The man was staring at the floor when John had opened the door but now he looked up and

"SHIT! What the HELL are _you_ doing here?" The exclamation was enough to bring Sherlock to the door. The man looked back at the floor and kicked the ground nervously.

"Moriarty" Sherlock stated, it wasn't quite a greeting but it was enough.

The man who stood in front of them looked _nothing_ like the Moriarty that John remembered. The master criminal who thought nothing of playing with peoples lives and had tried to kill them at every chance he had; was standing in front of them looking vulnerable, insecure and smaller than ever.

"What do you want?" John asked. Moriarty looked up again and it was now that John registered the bruises. He had a black eye with a split lip to match, and if John looked carefully he could see the beginnings of handprint shaped bruises peeking out from under his hoodie around his neck. It also struck him that Moriarty had quite obviously been _crying_. John wasn't impressed.

"I just… It was…I have nowhere else to go" he mumbled. John was caught off guard by how lost and _human_ he sounded. But still, he wasn't falling for it.

"Well you're not staying here." He replied, somewhat harshly. He looked over to Sherlock to confirmation, but Sherlock was looking at the man, clearly analysing, thinking, _deducing_ how dangerous this situation could be.

"Come in" Sherlock finally replied.

"Woah, woah. Hang on just a second, do you really think that's a good idea? He tries to kill us out of _boredom_ and you're just going to let him walk straight in?" John asked incredulously. Sherlock stares back at him.

"I'm not an idiot John, I wouldn't let him in if I didn't believe it to be safe. And besides, he can walk in any time he likes, you know that." John sighed.

"Yes, but I was trying not to think about it." Sherlock just looked back to Moriarty.

"Well, come inside. John will make some tea."

"Excuse me? I will not! I didn't even agree to this!" John protested. "In fact, I am going to go to bed" he turned to Moriarty "and if you're going to kill anyone, kill him and leave me alone!" With that John left, slamming the door to his room behind him. Sherlock turned to the other man with raised eyebrows.

"He just doesn't understand, don't worry. Come on" Moriarty stepped over the threshold and stood in the middle of the room looking lost and out of place. It really was amazing, Sherlock thought, how much of a look of power the suit gave him as right now, he just looked like a scared child.

"Sit down, I'll put the kettle on." Moriarty sat in one of the chairs; he looked far too small as he curled in n himself slightly. Sherlock presumed that, if he didn't know better, he would find it hard to believe that this man had tried to take his life on numerous occasions. Not tonight though, tonight he just needed refuge.

Sherlock handed him his tea and sat in the chair opposite him.

"So," he started, sipping from his tea "what happened?" Moriarty just sat for a while, staring into the teacup.

"Seb just, he just got a bit more physical than usual. That's all." He almost whispered. Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"You wouldn't have come here if that was all. He did something out of the, well it's not ordinary anyway, but he did something _more_. What was it?" Moriarty sighed, and curled in on himself a little more.

"He just, I've never seen him so _mad_. He just flipped and, he had his gun, I don't… I thought he was going to kill me." The last statement was accompanied by a small incredulous laugh. "I came here because, because I don't _have_ any friends and I knew, I knew you'd understand. But, god Sherlock. I thought he was going to _kill_ me. He just didn't _stop_. I mean, usually it's just a few bruises or something, but this was just. I don't know. Did I do this to him? I mean, I know I'm not he most _agreeable_ of people, but did I do this? Did I make him this way? Fuck, I probably deserve it. Someone with enough bloody _humanity_ to know what I'm doing wrong and enough _guts_ to call me out on it." Sherlock realised that Moriarty was crying, and suddenly he recalled being in exactly the same position. How had he felt? Afraid, no _terrified_ and lost and so _confused_, like he couldn't make sense of the world anymore. With this in mind he did something he'd only ever seen once before. He put his tea down and knelt in front of Moriarty, he knew that if he was going to be of any use, he needed to make himself appear as non-threatening as possible. Slowly, he placed his hands on the other man's knees.

"Look at me." He stated softly. The other man dropped his head and refused to make eye contact. "No, Jim, look at me." Slowly, Jim raised his head until their eyes met.

"I know that sometimes people don't understand how we think, that they just don't know how to deal with it. I know that it annoys them because they can't keep up, and that they think that you're mocking them constantly because you just can't turn it off. I know that, but he doesn't have any right to treat you like this." He explained softly.

"But, I _deserve_ it. I've done worse. I've done so much worse." He replied, shaking his head slightly. Sherlock just tightened his grip slightly.

"We both know that the reasons you do those things are beyond your control. In some ways, probably not to their tiny brains, but to me at least, I can understand. I know why you do it, and though it may not be right, it still has a reason. What he's doing to you is just, it has no reason, and he shouldn't be treating you like this Jim." The two just sat in silence for a while, each trying to work out what the other was thinking. Eventually Sherlock spoke again.

"When…When I was with Jeremy I thought… well I thought that it was just something I'd done. I'd annoyed everyone I'd ever known and eventually someone was going to do something about it. I went along with it for _years_ until Lestrade… Well he spoke to me and eventually I understood. I thought I loved him, but I don't know emotions that well. It wasn't love, from what I can understand it was more fear and feeling indebted that led to it. I don't know about you and Sebastian but, even if you love him it's clear that he doesn't love you."

"I don't know what to do" Jim whispered, Sherlock laughed a little.

"You, are James Moriarty. From what I've know of you, you can do whatever you like." Jim smiled a little at this.

"I don't, I just…" Sherlock shook his head.

"Stay here as long as you need. Don't worry about John I'll speak to him, and in the morning he can check you over. I hope you're not around for too long though, because things were starting to get interesting." Jim laughed quietly.

"Thank you" it was probably the most sincere expression of gratitude Sherlock had ever heard. He just nodded.

"You're welcome." He stayed until Jim was asleep before going and joining John.

…

One month later, they were stood next to a pool, Moriarty looking as terrifying and powerful as ever back in his suit, and Sherlock pointing a gun at a vest full of bombs, threatening to blow them all up.

**A/n: So, there we have it. I'd be interested to see what you all thought of this as I don't know what to think, so if you could drop me a little review it would make my day : ) **


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